


Puddled Together

by mythic0wings



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Platonic Cuddling, Team as Family, post vol. 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 16:32:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11039994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mythic0wings/pseuds/mythic0wings
Summary: Yondu's funeral is over, the other Ravager ships gone, Peter still hurts in ways he hasn't for over two decades. Unknowingly, he seeks the comfort of another. What he gets is more than he could ask for.





	Puddled Together

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the GotG Kink Meme on livejournal for this prompt: "I love puppy-pile fics! And it seems like such a waste, after GotG2 pretty much confirmed that ravagers sleep in groups, not to use that. Maybe Peter has been missing sleeping in a big pile of crewmates since he started running with the other Guardians. Or maybe it's just instinct after everything that's happened. After all, it's been a long and tiring day for him, and for everyone else too, including Kraglin. Maybe he and Kraglin seek each other out as the only ravagers left, or the others know about the tradition and want to help Peter feel better after everything. Regardless, I'd like to see a big Guardians puppy pile after the events of the movie, with Peter and Kraglin in the middle, Peter having missed it since he left the ravagers, and Kraglin worried this might be his last chance for something like this.
> 
> Just, puppy piles please!"
> 
> I hope I did this justice!

Everything is heavy, his body, his mind, his emotions. It drags on Peter’s shoulders like mountains; craggy tips jabbed into his heart. Losing Yondu is so raw he feels hollow; feelings rolling over him in waves. Lost could be an apt way to describe it, despite having already striking out on his own. Alone. Somehow separate from the other Guardians. Separate from even Kraglin. He’s out of tears by now. Salt stinging at his eyes in a way no rubbing helps. A headache pulses dully at his temples, gritting his teeth at the physical pain.

Emptiness echoes from his heart. It’s his mother all over again.

So as he lets his feet drag him through the halls of the broken-off _Eclector_ he finds himself in front of one of the old barracks. His throat grows tight, fingers clenching the fabric over his chest. The Ravagers were assholes, terrible fucking people. But they had been close. Hand trembling he reaches out and presses a palm to the door panel. It slides open under his touch.

Fresh agony is a spike of ice in his belly. Yondu had kept his access active.

Stumbling into the barracks, suddenly tired -so tired- he blinks slowly as the huddled form on one of the bunks. Still dressed in Ravager red, pale skin stark against dark curls of hair. Even after all this time, having been under his command, Karglin looks small. Has always looked small.

Though no wetness comes to his eyes, a choked sob clenches at Peter. Wracking his chest and seizing his lungs. He just… He _needs._

Fumbled steps bring him to the bunk Karglin is on and he climbs in. Not bothering to grab any sort of cover as he pushes his back to Karglin’s. Feeling the other man jerk in surprise at the contact before shifting to look at Peter.

“Peter…?” He starts, trailing off into a question.

Peter pursed his lips, shaking his head. He isn’t... he can't speak. Not right now. He just stretches out a leg to put more contact between him and Kraglin. Right now Peter just needs someone _there._ He presses his face into a stray pillow, hugging another to his chest.

Kraglin understands, rolling over to hug Peter from behind with one arm. The elder’s face in between Peter’s shoulders while their legs lay over each other. Kraglin can feel the heaviness, feel the pit of dark emotions yawning, but he takes this chance to be like old days. Days where the crew just slept where they fell; limbs akimbo and the comfort of another body close to them. Reminds him of a scared Terran boy who wailed for his mother when nights were rocky.

That comforting warmth soothes the pair to sleep. Torn apart inside but clinging to the ragged pieces of each other.

 -=-

Time drifts past before Peter feels something wedge between his and Kraglin’s legs. Familiar textures of fur and skin and jumpsuit draws an aborted hiccup from him. Broken sleep allowing him to shift and make room for Rocket. Rocket didn’t say anything but curled up, kind of like his aunt’s old cat, in the space created. Under his chin scratches the rough sensation of bark. Groot’s tiny face pressed into his neck and shoulder. Thin vines stretching out but not gripping him. The _Flora Colossus_ cuddled into the small hollow there. Peter lifts a hand, cupping Groot where he lay. Shaky breaths leaving the Terran hybrid in a rush.

Sleep, not far away, is a little bit warmer. A little brighter.

 -=-

More movement wakes those on the cot, Peter moaning softly in protest as powerful hands gently, so gently, lift his head to move it from pillow to… someone’s thigh? Sore, tired eyes crack open. Finding the heavily tattooed body of Drax relaxing back onto the bunk. Putting a hand on Peter’s head, running blunt nails in soft strokes over Peter’s scalp. Kraglin and Rocket spare short looks but settle once more. Peter though, gives a full body shudder. The sensation dredging up memories blurred by time and pain but also soothing his tattered emotions.

The gesture is so parental, so intimate, briefly Peter wonders what he did to deserve it. The galaxy may be saved, but not the one that matters most. Teeth grit. His throat constricts. But once more sleep washes over him. Drax’s solid presence a pin-prick beacon through the darkness.

 -=-

Being woken the third time Peter groans lightly, already of being cut off from rest. All he wants is rest.

Like the others, Gamora simply slips into the bunk. Guiding the pillow from Peter’s arms so she can instead fill the spot. Tension holding her tight as she presses herself against Peter’s chest, tangling their legs together while not disturbing Rocket. Thin, deadly hands cup Peter’s arm. Her breaths are soft as they rush over the fabric of his shirt. Soothing sounds falling over Peter’s ears as Gamora starts to run her fingers over his arm. Slowly daring to relax into the hold she put herself in.

Peter pulls her in tighter, bowing his head to touch his chin to her temple. Groot gurgles out something but remains. Drax’s hand shifts to brace the back of his head, thumb running back and forth through Peter’s short hair. Kraglin’s puppy-dog snores reassuring at his back. Rocket is quiet, but a spot of warmth so much more comforting than words.

Peter feels his face crumple, emotions warring inside him and he latches onto the peace that flickers between bursts of pain and memory. Clutches it tight with his crew around him. It’s a balm, perhaps a temporary measure, but he needs it like air. Letting him sink into a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> For those who may also be reading my story "Never Forgotten" I'm still working on it! I'm doing a major re-haul of chapter 4 right now but will have not only the edit, but chapter five up tomorrow!


End file.
